Blood Makes Noise
by Ai Kemi
Summary: Blood may be thicker than water. But when a crisis strikes, family becomes relative.
1. Prologue

TITLE: Blood Makes Noise

TITLE: Blood Makes Noise

AUTHOR: Ai Kemi

E-MAIL: logansmagnolia@hotmail.com

DATE: 6/29/01

ARCHIVE: WRFA, FF.net; anyone else, ask and ye shall receive.

CATEGHORY: Drama, Action, tiniest bit of romance

SERIES: No while I'm breathin'!

RATING: PG to R for various degrees of violence and language

SUMMARY: Blood may be thicker than water. But when a crisis strikes, family becomes relative.

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing Marvel related, but Dorian Lane, Katherine Marie, and John Jacob belong to me. *grin* I'm a mommy!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is set approximately seventeen years after the movie.

She jogged up to the large wrought iron gates that protected Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters and bent over as if to catch her breath. It was a ruse, of course. Though she had just run five miles in under an hour, she wasn't even slightly winded. Her deception was strictly for the benefit of the security cameras staring down at her from their perches on the stone columns on either side of the drive. And for whomever else that might be watching. If these people gave her any trouble, then what they didn't know could hurt them.

While bent over, she surreptitiously examined what security measures she might have to bypass should her family's "friends" decide to be less than hospitable. She could detect no other cameras along the perimeter, nor did she hear the faint hum that would indicate an electrified barrier. But who knew what surprises might be waiting for her on the other side of that gate.

She'd knock nicely first. Mama had somehow managed to instill some manners in her daughter.

Straightening, she located an intercom-like box by the column on the left side of the gates. When she approached it, she was startled to hear a pleasant female voice say, "Welcome to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. Unfortunately, the school is closed at the present. If you would like to come back at a later time, school hours are 9 A.M. to 5 P.M., Monday through Friday. If you are a returning teacher or student, please be advised that it is past curfew and your tardiness will be duly noted. At the tone, please state your verification code."

There was a melodious little beep and she almost laughed. "Hell of a doorbell you got there. Anyway, could you open up? I need to talk to—"

"I'm sorry," the lovely, artificial voice interrupted. "But your voice print was not recognized." There was a small pause then, "Welcome to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. Unfortunately, the school is closed at the present. If you would like to come back at a later time, school hours are 9 A.M. to 5 P.M., Monday through Friday. If you are—"

Okay, so knocking first hadn't worked. _Time for Plan B_, she thought, grimly. _Storm the gates and hope you get a chance to explain things before you get your ass handed to you on a platter. I just hope I've learned enough of Daddy's moves to pull this off._

Throwing a disgusted glare at the useless automated intercom, she toed off her sneakers and drew her dark, hooded sweatshirt off over her head. Her long dark hair tumbled down around her pale shoulders and hid her face as she bent to peel off her black jeans. She was left clad only in her navy blue sports bra and matching underwear. Their dark color would blend well with the nighttime shadows. The rest of her would blend with everything else.

Casting a glance at the ever-vigilant security cameras, she began to change. Briefly, she wondered how it looked to anyone who might be watching. 

It was probably a very strange sight, indeed.

Hazel eyes went colorless. Peaches-and-cream skin faded to a death-like pallor. Previously dark hair lightened until a shimmering platinum mane remained.

Where once stood a normal looking, though half-dressed girl now stood a walking specter. And in a melting of textures and colors, the specter vanished.

****


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer, etc. in part 1.

It was quiet in the little security room.

All that could be heard was the faint electronic hum of the video console along the right wall, occasionally punctuated by the sound of a turned page and a muttered curse as playing cards were slapped down on the surface of the small table in the corner.

"Well, well, Mr. Freeze," Remy LeBeau said with a smirk. "Looks like Remy done won again." 

Bobby Drake glared at the young man seated across from him. "I've told you not to call me that." His scowl deepened as he watched the former thief—_Though I wonder at the 'former', because he certainly just robbed me blind_, Bobby mused—stuff his winnings into one of the pockets of his ever-present trench coat.

The dark-haired teen's smirk widened to a grin as he gathered up the cards and began to shuffle them with efficient skill. "Chill out, _homme_. It's jus' a lil' ol' poker game." With a flick of his wrist, Remy snapped the cards out into a graceful fan. A decidedly predatory gleam entered his ruby colored eyes. "Care to play again, Mr. Freeze? Maybe you win back some o' dat money, no?"

"No, thanks, Remy." Bobby leaned back in his chair and smiled ruefully. "Even I occasionally know when to cut my losses." He reached for the hand-held video game he had discarded earlier when he'd let the crimson-eyed Cajun con him into playing cards. Soon, the blonde-haired man was absorbed in the virtual world of the electronic game. Faint blips and beeps filled the near silence of the room.

Remy frowned at the loss of a victim—uh, rather, adversary. Then the sound of a turning page caught his attention. Smiling like the card shark he was, Remy addressed the pale-blue girl quietly reading in the corner. "Dorian, _chere_, how 'bout you? You wanna play Remy in a nice, friendly game of poker?"

"Not in this lifetime," Dorian Lane snorted, her fingers never pausing as they traveled across the pages of the book in her lap. "The words 'nice', 'friendly' and 'poker' should never be used in the same sentence when you're involved, Remy. Consider it false advertising."

"Aw, _chere_, you wound poor Remy!"

Dorian smiled slightly. "Liar."

"Come on, Dorian! Jus' one game." The young Cajun tried to infuse his voice with every scrap of charm he possessed. "If you're worried 'bout me drivin' you to da poorhouse, don' worry, _chere_. We don' have to play for money." His voice turned suggestive. "You're wearin' enough clothes to keep us busy for the rest o' da night."

There was a brief pause in the incessant bleeping of the video game. "LeBeau," Bobby warned. "Thin ice, boy."

Dorian slowly turned towards Remy, her expression incredulous. He had _not_ just asked her to play strip poker. "As…_tempting_" she spat the word "as that offer might be, I'm afraid I still have to say no."

"But, _chere_—"

"Remy, I said _no_," the girl interrupted, her blank violet eyes narrowing slightly. "And for two very good reasons. One, tomorrow I have a test on _The Tempest_, and if I don't finish reading Act 1 tonight—which is still up for grabs considering that the Bard is a bitch in Braille—I'll fail with flying colors." She turned a page and went back to running her fingertips over paper that was blank but for tiny bumps.

Annoyed at being turned down flat—and for a test, no less!—Remy asked, "And da other reason you won't play wit Remy?"

Dorian shrugged. "I have the feeling the fact that someone is in the process of sneaking onto the property—"

"What?!" Remy and Bobby shouted in unison.

"—would be slightly more important than a poker game," she finished with a small smile.

As one, the two males rushed to the video console and studied the monitors.

"I don't see anyone, Orca," Bobby said, automatically switching to battle mode. "And the motion detectors didn't pick up anything."

"Not a damn thing," Remy agreed. "Dorian, _chere_, dat radar brain o' yours done gone haywire."

"My powers are working just fine, Gambit. Try running the video feed through an infrared filter."

Bobby punched a few commands into the console. "Still nothing."

"Try thermal."

More typing, then "Bingo. The west quad, two hundred yards from the mansion."

Dorian blinked in surprise. "He's practically at our front door and he didn't set off a single alarm?" She let out a low whistle. "He's good, gotta give him that."

"He's not good," Bobby growled as he headed for the door. "He's goddamn _invisible_." In the next instant he was outside.

Remy grinned, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. "'Bout time Gambit got _some_ kinda action tonight." He went to follow Iceman, and called back over his shoulder, "Wish me luck, _chere_."

Dorian, who had gone back to reading, murmured absently, "Luck."

****


End file.
